Fidem Lupus
by SweetDeamon
Summary: Harry was not the first lamb Dumbledore raised for slaughter. He had plans for Remus right from the start... MWPP. RLNT. Rated M for potentially adult content in later chapters.
1. Prologue - 1967

_Note: A new term, a new story! This doesn't mean I've forgotten the other ones, mind you! If anybody is curious as to what on earth is going on with my stories just now, you will find a note on my profile. _

_This is **Fidem Lupus**. Yes, I'm naming things in Latin now...! I hope you all enjoy reading it. It was one of those ideas that appeared and refused to go away until I wrote it down. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**1: Prologue - 1967**

"I can tell you, Dumbledore," Minister for Magic Nobby Leach insisted, his bristly chin jutting out in a distinctly arrogant fashion, "the Ministry are entirely aware of the situation!"

Albus Dumbledore peered over the rims of his golden half-moon spectacles at the squat, pink-faced man sat across the desk from him.

"Is that so, Mr. Leach?" the Headmaster of Hogwarts wondered, leaning back in his chair and shifting a little to get comfortable, and the Minister promptly snapped:

"Yes, it certainly is!"

Dumbledore offered him a smile.

"I must say I'm relieved to hear it!" he said, gaze drifting sideways to eye the little jar upon the desk at Leach's elbow. "I had thought the Ministry so preoccupied by the recent troubles surrounding the Squib Rights Marches that other, equally important matters may have gone unnoticed. After all, Mr Leach, you know as well as I do that dark times are coming! I'm glad to know the Ministry has such a firm hand on those who would so easily thrive at such an hour. Your trust in the nature of your Dementors is simply admirable! Assuming of course that they remain..._yours_..." Reaching to pluck the jar up from the desk the Headmaster reached to unscrew the lid and, holding the jar out to the now scowling man opposite, cheerfully offered: "Sherbet lemon?"

"No thank you." Leach managed to grind out through gritted teeth, and Dumbledore reached to poke two long, slender fingers into the jar to extract one of the confectionaries in question.

"I must say, they truly are a weakness of mine!" he confessed, quirking an eyebrow upwards before popping the sweet into his mouth with an approving: "Mm!"

"Your letter to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has caused an awful stir!" Leach complained, gripping the sides of his chair tightly until his knuckles began to grow white.  
"Did it really?" Dumbledore said, sounding somewhat delighted by the news as he folded his hands carefully in his lap, only for Leach to exclaim:

"Yes! It's been leaked to the press! Merlin knows how they got hold of it!"  
"Goodness, that _is_ unfortunate..."

"It's simple scare mongering, Dumbledore! It's entirely unnecessary given the...the current climate!"

"There are only rumours now, Mr. Leach..."

"Exactly! They are only rumours!"

"...but they won't remain so for long, I'm sure. Tom Riddle..._Lord Voldemort_ is not going to remain a rumour for long, believe me. The climate shall grow ever more fearful. And how shall you keep the Dementors in check then? When he comes for them? They'd join him in a heartbeat..."

"All this talk of...of followers, Dumbledore! It's ridiculous..."

"Have the riots these past few weeks shown us nothing? There are plenty of pure blooded witches and wizards to flock to Voldemort's call. It will be difficult to stop him, the ranks of his Death Eaters shall swell. But you have an opportunity with the Dementors. You have some control over them right now! Keep ahead of the game, do something with them before he does..."

"The Dementors have been guarding Azkaban for years! They are an effective deterrent to possible offenders and they keep perfect order..."

"Move them somewhere secret, keep them there, don't let him get them..."

"And what shall become of Azkaban then?!" Leach snapped, at last losing his patience entirely as he reached to slam his hands down upon the desk, rising abruptly to his feet as he exclaimed: "You are meddling, Dumbledore! You are meddling in Ministry affairs that you have no business with! Causing trouble with the public! What's needed is a strong, stable Ministry! And you are seeking to...TO UNDERMINE US!" And with that he slammed his hands down upon the desk again, demanding to know: "AND FOR MERLIN'S SAKE WHAT IS THAT INCECENT SCRATCHING SOUND?!"

"Scratching, Mr. Leach?" Dumbledore inquired mildly as the Minister spun around, gaze darting around the Headmaster's office searchingly.

"Yes!" Leach told him, stepping away from the desk, his hands balling into tight fists. "Can you not hear it?! It's been niggling away at me for the past half an hour!"

As the Minister stomped over to scowl accusingly down at the various spindly silver instruments that the Headmaster had set out upon a sideboard, Dumbledore reached to scratch his head, admitting:

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Leach. Perhaps my phoenix Fawkes is the culprit? I must say that after enjoying his company for so many years now, I no doubt tune out any of his more irritating habits..."

"No, no!" Leach insisted as over in the corner the bird in question ruffled his fiery feathers and sat straighter upon his perch, as if he had recognised his name and was preparing to be admired. "It's not the bird, it's a...a scratchy sound like...like..." As he trailed off in search of the correct simile, Dumbledore leant forward a little in his chair, straining his ears to hear...

There is was! A frantic, frenetic scratching like...

"Like a quill on parchment, perhaps?" the Headmaster suggested helpfully, and the Minister turned back to face him, drawing breath to speak, only to freeze...

The two wizards looked at one another for a long, considering moment, before both turning to look over at the series of bookcases against the far wall. Set between a gap in the towering wooden structures, below a softly snoring portrait of one of Hogwarts' earlier Headmasters who seemed entirely unaware of the noise, was set an elaborate lectern made of carved oak, the crest of Hogwarts School etched into wood. Upon the lectern was set a hefty leather bound tome, and scribbling away frantically at an open page of creamy coloured parchment was a large feather quill pen, its movements fast and flailing.

Dumbledore and Leach both moved to stand before the lectern, observing the magical quill's odd movements curiously.

"Is it...supposed to behave like that?" Leach wondered after a long moment, and as he took another step forward to get a closer look, Dumbledore admitted:

"I daresay that it is not, Mr. Leach."

The book and quill, responsible for detecting and recording the birth of each witch and wizard in Great Britain in order that an invitation to attend Hogwarts School could be sent to them upon their eleventh birthday, marked the current year with an elaborate scarlet silken bookmark which, the Headmaster saw, appeared to be several pages on from that which currently lay open.

Dumbledore leant closer, peering down his long, crooked nose at the top of the page, which he saw had been labelled: _1960_.

His gaze drifted down to where the quill was busy scratching out one of the neatly written entries that had been made during March of that year. Every time a thick black line of ink had been swiped across the name in question the quill seemed to think better of it, the line would disappear, distort, smudge...

...only for the quill to scribble the name out yet again.

"It seems..._confused_." the Minister observed from the Headmaster's side.

"An apt description, Minister." Dumbledore agreed, leaning even closer until his half-moon spectacles slid a good half inch down his nose.

"Perhaps the child is...dying?" Leach suggested grimly, and Dumbledore straightened up, reaching to adjust his glasses.

"Oh no, Mr. Leach. Death is not in the least bit confusing. On the contrary, death is nothing but precise."

"What do you think it is, then?" Leach wondered, sounding rather impatient now that his theory had been dismissed.

Dumbledore leant down again, reaching to grasp hold of the quill to force it to halt it's confused deliberation. Lifting it away from the page the Headmaster was able at last to read the name upon the page:

_Remus John Lupin_.

"_Fascinating_." Dumbledore concluded.


	2. The Marked Child

_Note: Posted the evening before I begin my final term at University! _

_Thank you to my kind reviewers, it was very nice to hear from you and I am glad to hear that you enjoyed the first chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**2: The Marked Child**

"Lupin, you say?"

"That's right."

"Goodness me." Minerva McGonnogal took a sip of her tea before setting her cup and saucer down upon the table before her, reaching to spoon a couple of boiled eggs onto her plate as she recalled: "I knew a Lupin, back when I was at school. Probably the boy's father. James...J-something or other..."

"John?" Dumbledore offered through a mouthful of scrambled egg, and the witch beside him agreed:

"John Lupin, precisely! He was a Ravenclaw muggle-born boy with an obsession with ancient history! Bookish...liked a good argument every once in a while! His young lady friend used to get terribly embarrassed when he'd launch into a debate about something utterly insignificant...she was a very quiet girl...also a Ravenclaw...her name escapes me but when he wasn't arguing with other students the two of them seemed very keen on one another."

"Remus' mother, perhaps?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if the two had married."

"Hm."

"Nice family, I imagine."

"I see."

"What's wrong with the boy, do you suppose?"

"I can scarcely imagine, Minerva. The quill resumed its usual activities late last night."

"And is the name still there?"  
"Oh yes."

"Fascinating."

"Isn't it?" Dumbledore reached to take a sip of his tea, watching absent-mindedly as a handful of Slytherin students rose from their seats along their table further down the Great Hall, slinging bags onto their backs before heading for the Entrance Hall. "It seems to me," he theorised as beside him McGonnogal set about eating her boiled egg, "that the quill had become...confused. As if it were not sure whether or not young Remus is magical at all..."

"Perhaps he's a borderline Squib."

"Perhaps..."

"But that would not explain the timing. Why now, Albus? Why would the quill wait until now to become confused?"

"My thoughts precisely."

"How old is the boy?"

"Seven."

"Could his age be in some way significant?"

Dumbledore gave a cheerful chuckle as he replaced his cup atop his saucer.

"So many questions, Minerva!" he observed, pushing back his chair so that he could rise to his feet. Eyes twinkling as he reached to straighten his robes of peacock blue, the Headmaster suggested: "I think perhaps there is only one thing to be done about it."

His colleague offered him a questioningly raised eyebrow and he informed her:

"I shall have to pay our young Mr. Lupin a visit."

Dumbledore discovered the Lupins' house that morning marked by a bouquet of flowers.

As the Headmaster walked slowly down the ramshackle lane, having apparated to the outskirts of the village recorded by the magical quill in his office, he spied a young woman leading a small boy by the hand up to the house at the edge of the woods, before she leant down to lay a bunch of vivid yellow daffodils up against the garden wall.

"What a delightful colour." the wizard observed as he reached the wall himself, and both mother and child turned to look round at him.

"Oh it's just terrible!" the young woman half-whispered, looking distinctly watery eyed. "I thought his mother might like these...or at least she'll know we're thinking of them!"

"Dear me, whatever has happened?" Dumbledore wondered as the woman reached to scoop the little boy up into her arms, hugging him tightly.

"Everybody's talking about it!" she said, eyes widening in horror at the thought. "That awful creature came out of nowhere, quick as a flash!"

"Which creature would that be?"

At this question the woman glanced around as if she were frightened to be overheard, before taking a step forward and hissing:

"A werewolf! Their little boy Remus is dead, everybody's saying it! Got torn limb for limb, didn't stand a chance!"

"A werewolf, you say?" Dumbledore said, sounding interested more than anything else, and the woman shook her head vigorously and wondered:

"What on earth is the world coming to?! I won't let my children out alone at night, I simply couldn't, it isn't safe!"

"Dear, dear me..." Dumbledore murmured, turning to eye the cottage before them, the curtains drawn firmly across the windows and the whole place dark. Reaching to straighten his cloak a little, the Headmaster decided: "I must go and offer my condolences to the poor boy's parents."

"They won't answer the door." the woman called after him as he pushed open the creaking garden gate and made his way up to the front door. "We've been knocking for them all morning, we've all but given up!"

Paying no attention to her at all, the professor went to knock firmly upon the door and, once he had glanced round to see the woman walking back up the road, murmuring soothingly to her oblivious child, Dumbledore leant down to push open the letterbox, calling:

"Mr and Mrs. Lupin? Albus Dumbledore, might I have a word?"

There was a long pause before he heard shuffling footsteps inside and after another brief pause a woman's voice called:

"Professor Dumbledore...?"

"Yes, Mrs. Lupin. Would you be so kind as to open the door?"

Again, there was silence, before the woman inquired:

"Are...are you alone, Professor?"

"Entirely, I can assure you." Dumbledore said, glancing over his shoulder a moment later to check his assumptions were entirely correct, and with that he heard a number of locks sliding and clicking until the door was pulled open just a fraction.

Remus' mother, the Headmaster saw, was a tall, willowy woman with a pale yet motherly face and mousy brown hair tied in a messy knot at the back of her head. She eyed Dumbledore rather suspiciously for a long moment before straightening up and pulling the door further open.

"Thank you." Dumbledore told her pleasantly as he stepped across the threshold into the small hallway, which appeared to be stacked high on both sides with an abundance of trunks and boxes.

Mrs. Lupin closed the door hurriedly behind him and set about relocking the door with a wave of her wand as Dumbledore eyed the bare walls dotted with empty picture hooks thoughtfully before he inquired:

"Is your husband at home, Mrs. Lupin?"

"Y...yes." the witch said, pausing to twitch a curtain sideways to glance out into the front garden before turning around to face him.

"And your son? Remus?"

At the mention of her son, Mrs. Lupin visibly flinched.

"Your neighbours seem to be under the impression that the poor boy is dead." Dumbledore explained softly, "But I believe they are mistaken, are they not?"

Reaching to clasp her hands together in a distinctly nervous fashion, Mrs. Lupin murmured:

"John told the...the couple next door...he told them Remus died...it's...it's better that way..."

"But he didn't, did he?"

"N...no he...it's not safe here for him, we're...we're moving. We're moving tonight when it gets dark. Don't...don't tell them he survived...d...don't tell them he...that he's...he's a...they'll...if they found out he's...that he's a..." she trailed off reaching to clamp a hand down over her mouth, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, only to crumple back against the trunks behind her when Dumbledore suggested:

"A werewolf, Mrs. Lupin?"

Teeth gritted to keep her composure, Remus' mother tugged at her skirt to flatten a few invisible creases before inquiring:

"Can I...help you with something, Professor?"

"I think that perhaps you just did, Mrs. Lupin." Dumbledore admitted, and when she only seemed to look more agitated he explained: "I have observed some very strange behaviour yesterday evening. The magical quill that records the births of future Hogwarts students seemed to be having some sort of crisis of sorts..."

"Oh...oh Merlin!" the witch whimpered, reaching to run a despairing hand across her face. "It's...it's Remus, isn't it? It's...he..."

"It would seem to me, Mrs. Lupin," Dumbledore explained calmly, "that the alterations being made to your son's genetic make-up when he was attacked had our quill quite baffled as to whether he was a wizard or indeed something different entirely."

"My little boy c...can't go to...to Hogwarts...we...we hadn't even thought a...about that..." the werewolf's mother observed dejectedly, tears beginning to stream silently down her cheeks, and Dumbledore reached into the deep pocket of his robes to extract a lacy pink handkerchief to press into her hand.

"On the contrary, Mrs. Lupin! Remus' name is still on the list..." he began to assure her brightly as she accepted the offering.

"Who's...who's going to...to let a...a werewolf go to...to school?!" she asked dismally, dabbing somewhat unsuccessfully at her cheeks that were growing steadily pink.

"Might I meet him?" Dumbledore asked her as she paused to blow her nose.

"Meet him?"

"Yes, might I meet Remus? I should be delighted to do so."

"Oh...I...well I suppose..." Still dabbing at her eyes, the witch turned to lead the way further into the house, explaining: "He's j...just here...p...perhaps you might like a...a cup of tea...?"

"That would be splendid, Mrs. Lupin." Dumbledore assured her as they stepped through the doorway into the main room of the house, where a large squashy sofa had been set before the fireplace, a small round dining table beside it in the corner and a kitchen running across the back wall, a spiral staircase squeezed into another corner that led to the bedrooms upstairs.

And there, lying back against a mound of cushions and swathed in blankets upon the sofa, was a young boy of seven, his face pale and his sandy hair ruffled and sticking up at odd angles. He was dressed in a pair of stripy blue and white pyjamas, the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows and as he watched the two adults walk into the room, his mother asked:

"Remus Sweetheart, where's Daddy?"

The boy eyed Dumbledore for a long moment before shifting further down under the blankets, cocking his head sideways towards the stairs whilst remaining entirely mute.

"I said where's your father, love?" his mother asked again, apparently not content with this as a response. "Tell me with words, won't you Sweetheart? Is he upstairs?"

In response the boy gave his head a single nod before sinking so far down upon the chair that the bottom half of his face became obscured by blankets.

"We can't get a single word out of him. Not since he woke up this morning." the child's mother informed the Headmaster miserably, rather as if she might burst into fresh tears, but instead she went to crouch down before the sofa, reaching to sweep the hair soothingly back from the boy's forehead.

"We've got a visitor, Sweetheart." she informed her son quietly, still stroking his hair. "This is Professor Dumbledore. He's...he's just popped in for a cup of tea and...and a biscuit. Would you like a biscuit, Remus?"

The boy gave another short nod, barely more than a slight jerk of the head and his mother instructed:

"Sit up straight then, so you don't choke, alright? Nice and slowly so it won't hurt..."

Dumbledore watched rather solemnly as she eased the wounded boy up into a sitting position, smoothing his hair again as she told him:

"That's it, that's better. Now let's get rid of these blankets, Sweetheart, you're getting yourself all hot and sweaty..."

No sooner had she reached to gently tug the blankets down into his lap, the child let out an ear piercing scream that very nearly made Dumbledore jump, grasping hold of the blankets in his fists and holding on with all his might. The more his mother attempted to reason with him the more Remus shrieked at the top of his lungs until there came rushing footsteps upon the stairs and John Lupin appeared, dropping a large boxful of belongings down upon the kitchen counter before hurrying over to the commotion, apparently not noticing Dumbledore in the slightest.

"Shhhh!" the boy's father demanded, half-pushing his wife out of the way before wrestling the flailing boy down until he was lying flat upon the sofa, kicking his legs wildly up into the air. "That's enough! Enough, Remus, be quiet!" To his wife he snapped: "I told you, Cate! It's...it's too soon just...just let him...let him just...Remus settle down! You'll loosen your bandages!"

"Those bandages need changing!" Cate snapped back, forgetting that they had an audience. "They've needed changing since last night! If you can't persuade him to let go of the blankets how in Merlin's name do you suppose we'll clean him up?! The wound will get infected..."

"It can't get any bloody worse." her husband grunted miserably as at last their son went limp and silent upon the sofa. The wizard reached to pick something up from by the boy's feet, reaching to press it into the boy's hands, asking:

"Have you been looking at this whilst I've been upstairs? What do you think, hm? Rather cool, isn't it? If you're a good boy, maybe we'll take it upstairs after dinner and have a look out the window with it, eh? Would you like that?"

Remus gave a distinctly subdued nod as he dropped the object down into his lap. As his father reached to slide him carefully back up into a sitting position, tucking the blankets firmly under his armpits, he suggested:

"Tell me with words, Remus, won't you? I said would you like that?"

The boy simply nodded.

His father sighed heavily, but reached to ruffle his hair before rising back to his feet. As both parents turned round to spot Dumbledore still stood observing them by the door, they both jumped a little and Cate exclaimed:

"Oh yes! Tea, Professor?"

"That would be lovely." Dumbledore agreed offering them both a smile and John hurried forward to shake him by the hand, expression distinctly embarrassed.

"Professor Dumbledore..."

"Good morning, Mr. Lupin."

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Dumbledore gestured past the wizard to the boy upon the sofa, who had picked up the object, a lunarscope the professor noted, and was turning it curiously around in his hands.

"I've come to see young Remus here, Mr. Lupin, and your wife has very kindly offered me a cup of tea and a biscuit."

"You've come to see Remus?"

"That's right."  
"I see...I see, do take a seat..." Glancing over at his wife who appeared to be on the verge of tears again over by the sink, John mumbled an apology under his breath before hurrying over to help her with the tea. As he slowly approached the child upon the sofa he heard the parents begin to talk in murmurs, the mother's voice growing a little too high as she complained a little too loudly:

"...can't go to...to school, John!"

Dumbledore went to perch upon the sofa at Remus' feet and the boy paused in his examination of the lunarscope to look up at him with wide, sombre eyes.

"Hello Remus." the Headmaster greeted warmly, offering him a smile. "My name is Professor Dumbledore."

Remus merely shifted a little further down under the blankets until they were just below his chin.

"What's this you've got here?" Dumbledore asked, holding out a hand to the boy whose gaze darted down to the lunarscope for a brief moment before darting back up again. "May I see? It looks rather like a lunarscope to me."

After a deliberating pause, the young werewolf held out the lunarscope for the professor's inspection and as he retrieved it Dumbledore's face brightened as he observed:

"Ah yes, how delightful! Do you know, Remus, I do believe I owned a very similar one to this when I was your age!"

Remus stared mutely at him as he reached to raise the contraption up to his eye, peering squinting through it at nothing in particular before settling it upon his knees.

"I know a trick or two with lunarscopes, you know." Dumbledore said, reaching to tap a finger to his crooked nose with a wink. "And do you know what else I know, Remus?"

The boy shook his head rather unenthusiastically, and the wizard leant forward to inform him in a whisper:

"I happen to know, young man, that you were born on the tenth of March, 1960." Dumbledore revealed, his blue eyes twinkling as the boy continued to stare at him blankly, shifting stiffly under his blankets.

The Headmaster reached carefully into the pocket of his robes to withdraw his wand, before inquiring:

"How should you like to see what was in the night sky back then when you were born? I daresay you missed it on the day in question!"

At such a suggestion the boy shifted to sit a little straighter under his blankets, giving a more definite nod, and the professor picked up the lunarscope again and gave it a few sharp taps with his wand, held it up to one ear before giving it a good shake, before giving it another sharp tap, nodding approvingly.

"There!" he concluded, holding the object out for the child to take. "Have a look and see what you can see!"

Remus slowly reached to take the lunarscope before raising it somewhat gingerly up to his eye. A broad grin promptly spread across his face as he sat bolt upright, the blankets around him forgotten as at long last he let them fall down into his lap. The buttons of his pyjamas had been left undone to reveal tight bandages wrapped around his middle, the thick bundle of linen heavily stained a grimy yellowing colour, seeping blood staining a patch on the child's side.

"What do you see?" Dumbledore asked, eying the grotesque injury grimly, not entirely expecting a response, only for the boy to tell him:

"Stars."

"And the moon? What does it look like?"

"There isn't a moon." Remus informed him quietly as over in the kitchen his parents halted their hushed discussion to turn to stare at him. "Just stars."

"A new moon!" Dumbledore observed brightly. "Now that is interesting!"

"Where has it gone?" the child asked, pressing the lunarscope firmly against his eye as if he might see more clearly. "The moon?"

"Oh it hasn't gone anywhere, Remus." the Headmaster explained, causing the werewolf to lower the instrument to gaze at him curiously. "Just because we cannot see something, that does not mean that it is not there." Nodding to the bandages around the boy's middle, the wizard ventured: "Take those bandages you've got yourself there..." At mention of his injury, Remus hastily dropped the lunarscope in favour of yanking the blankets back up towards his chin. Dumbledore smiled reassuringly as he admitted: "Just because you cover them with blankets, that does not mean that they are not there." Meeting the child's wide-eyed and abruptly watery gaze, the Headmaster leant forward a little, voice dropping to little more than a whisper. "There's magic in the moon, Remus." he told the boy whose breaths had grown short, nervous, jumpy. "More magic than first meets the eye. More magic than we can see. But it is there, whether we can see it or not. Just like the new moon. And it marked you long before yesterday, I can tell you that."

At that moment Remus' mother appeared at the Headmaster's elbow with a cup and saucer and an almost timid smile and Remus watched in silence as Dumbledore accepted the steaming beverage with enthusiasm. Once Cate had gone to retrieve her own cup and saucer the professor turned to ask her son:

"I wonder, Remus, if you might be so kind as to ask your mother if she happens to have any custard creams in that biscuit barrel over there? I have a sudden craving for one!"

The child shook his head vigorously, sinking further down under his blankets.

"I see. And why not?"

There was a long pause before the boy consented to whispering:

"She'll cry."

"Over a custard cream? Goodness me, what a thing!"

"Over me." Remus whispered, ducking his head a little and hugging the blankets tightly around him. "I make her cry. When I...when I speak...it makes her cry..."

Dumbledore turned to see both of the werewolf's parents watching the scene intently, before he turned back to fix the boy with a smile.

"I should imagine," he said warmly, "that nothing would make your mother happier, Remus, than if you were to speak to her."

"She'll cry." the child insisted, hunching his shoulders.

"Perhaps she will. But she is your mother. Would it not be grand to chance making her happy?"

"But she might cry again."

"But she might smile. She might be relieved, don't you think? She is desperately worried about you, after all. Why not see if you might be awfully brave and take a chance?"

"I don't...I don't want Mummy to cry. It makes me sad and she cries and cries..."

"You think she shall cry forever? You think there is no hope? You cannot see it?" Dumbledore leant forward again until the half-moon spectacles slid a little down his long, crooked nose. "Just because you cannot see it, Remus," he reminded the boy softly, "doesn't mean it isn't there."

There was a long pause as Remus turned to stare over at his parents for a long, considering moment, before wetting his lips a little nervously, drawing a deep breath to call:

"Mummy? Professor Dumbledore would very much like a custard cream biscuit if you have one."

His mother positively beamed, reaching to snatch up the biscuit barrel as she announced:

"We bought a fresh packet just yesterday morning, didn't we Sweetheart? You went with me to the shop, remember?" She strode briskly over, pulling the biscuit barrel open before offering it to the Headmaster with a smile, and as he reached to select a biscuit with thanks, she blinked back a tear or two to murmur: "Such a brave boy!"

Dumbledore took a small bite out of his biscuit, agreeing:

"He certainly is." Piercing blue eyes back upon the young werewolf he said: "You will remember, won't you Remus? Remember that new moon, won't you?"

"Yes, Professor." the boy murmured, jumping a little when the wizard reached to grasp him firmly by the arm.

"Remember the things you can't see, Remus."

"Y..yes..."

"Do you know what that is called? Knowing something is there when you cannot see it?"

"No..."

"Faith, Remus. It's the act of having faith. If you have faith, Remus, you can be so very brave. You can do that, can't you? You can be brave, can't you?"

"Y...yes..." the child mumbled rather uncertainly, and with that Dumbledore took a rather satisfied bite out of his custard cream, turning to Cate as John came to stand at her side.

"I too have faith, Mr and Mrs. Lupin." the Headmaster told them cheerily as Remus leant to pluck a biscuit from the open barrel his mother was still clutching. "I have faith in your son, here. And in answer to your earlier question regarding who shall let a werewolf go to school: I can assure you with utter confidence that the answer is simple. _I shall_." And with that he drained his teacup and popped the last of his biscuit into his mouth, dusting crumbs from his lap before getting to his feet. Reaching to shake a distinctly stunned John Lupin by the hand before turning to do the same to the somewhat oblivious child lying upon the sofa, he informed Remus' parents: "Your son is a good boy, Mr and Mrs. Lupin. He has survived a terribly ordeal and has not lost the ability to have faith in human nature, even when he cannot immediately see it. He is a good boy and I have no doubt that he shall grow to be a great wizard. Perhaps he won't see it, perhaps he won't think himself remarkable in the slightest! But just because he won't see it, that does't mean that he won't be great! And _that_, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, shall be his greatest strength of all."


	3. The Meeting of Four Boys

_Note: I finish all University assignments on the 31st May! Until then updates will probably be non-existent, but after that I shall acquire a very strange and new phenomenon which I believe is commonly referred to as 'Free Time'. I believe the traditional thing to do with such a thing is to...well...use it..._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**3: The Meeting of Four Boys**

They had all happened in such a rush, those short few hours since his mother had awoken him by throwing back the curtains and letting the early morning sunlight stream through his bedroom window.

That was how things went when you were excited, eleven year old Remus Lupin supposed as he gazed out of the window at the frantically waving figures of his parents upon the station platform that were growing steadily smaller and smaller as the Hogwarts Express picked up speed.

It was true. Remus had been excited about going to school when he had woken up that morning. He had been excited ever since the previous afternoon when Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore had come to discuss in detail their special arrangements for his time at Hogwarts. At first the discussions had made him uneasy, but the Headmaster had spoken so calmly about the whole situation, as if they were merely arranging a monthly tea party to be held in the school grounds, that by the time his mother had seen their guests to the front door Remus had felt entirely relaxed about it all.

Now however, away from his parents and on a train hurtling him off into the unknown, Professor Dumbledore's calm explanations seemed a distant memory and going to Hogwarts seemed like some sort of dreadful nightmare...

It wasn't exciting in the slightest! It was...it was simply...it was just...!

Remus slumped forward until his forehead came to press against the glass of the window and he screwed his eyes shut, sucking in a deep, panicked breath...

He was going to be sick. He was sure of it.

The boy sucked in another deep breath and held it, wincing a little as the rattling window juddered against his forehead, making his head throb.

This was an awful idea. It was all an awful idea. He wasn't supposed to go to to Hogwarts. People like him didn't go to Hogwarts. They just didn't. What if somebody found out the truth about him? What then? What would happen to him? And how would he cope? How would he cope every month without his mother to look after him? He didn't want anybody else, he didn't want to be surrounded by strangers, strange adults to look after him, strange children to make friends with...he didn't make friends. He didn't know how. He didn't mix with children his own age. He didn't mix with anyone much at all. And Hogwarts would be swarming with people, so many people! All watching, all just waiting for him to...

"Are you alright?" a voice inquired from behind him, and at the noise Remus immediately jumped, cracking his head against the glass. Reaching to clamp a hand over his forehead the young werewolf stumbled round to see the speaker, and as the corridor seemed to swim alarmingly around him Remus tried to focus upon the boy stood in front of him. The speaker was a good half head shorter than Remus was and rather on the podgy side. He was gazing rather worriedly at Remus through a mop of mousy coloured hair with pale, watery blue eyes and as Remus tried to blink him into focus the podgy boy informed him:

"You look a bit...grey..."

"I...I want to get off the train..." Remus found himself confessing quite wildly, too panicked to care what he looked like or how childish it made him sound. "I...I don't...I'm not supposed to...to be here..."

"Don't you have a ticket?" asked the boy, frowning deeply. "What're you going to do when we get there and they realise..."

"No, that's not...I don't mean that it's just..."

"Are you scared of trains?"

"No..."

"Then you must be nervous about going to Hogwarts. I shouldn't worry, so am I! I couldn't eat a bite of breakfast, even though my Mum says we're all the same! Everybody gets nervous, that's what my Mum says!"

Remus wanted to snap at the cheery tone of the boy's voice to tell him that he wasn't the same as any of the other children in the slightest. But instead he slumped back against the window again and screwed his eyes shut. He tried to concentrate on his breathing.

"My name's Peter." the other boy informed him, still irritatingly cheery. "Peter Pettigrew. What's your name?"

Remus couldn't remember.

"I think I'm going to be sick..." he moaned as his stomach twisted into ever worsening knots.

"Oh..." Peter Pettigrew said rather unhelpfully.

Remus was beginning to wish he would go away.

He wished he could go away himself. He wished he could go back home, forget all about Hogwarts. He should have begged his mother to home school him, he should have gotten on his hands and knees and...

He barely registered falling to his knees and to find himself so close to the ground half a second later was something of a shock as he finally lost the battle with his twisting insides and vomited at Peter's feet. And as he registered Peter's vague exclamation of disgust as the podgy boy leapt backwards, colliding painfully with the compartment door behind him, Remus found the world abruptly slanted and his head met the carriage floor as the world seemed to flicker away into darkness.

When he resurfaced an indeterminate length of time later, Remus found himself lying across the seating in one of the carriage compartments, the English countryside streaking past outside of the window as he blinked groggily around at his surroundings. The rustling of a chocolate wrapped caught his attention and he shifted to find Peter Pettigrew sat opposite him, an impressive mound of sweets and confectionaries piled upon the seat beside him. The podgy young wizard took a sizeable bite out of a chocolate bar, before observing:

"You're awake!"

Remus reached stiffly to push himself up into a sitting position, his head aching dully as Peter snatched up a handful of sweets, reaching to thrust them under the young werewolf's nose.

"D'you want some?" the other boy asked cheerfully, and at the sugary scent of liquorice assaulting his nostrils Remus leant back until he was pressed firmly against the back of his seat, mumbling:  
"N...no thank you..."

"Well she left a load of this for you, you know!" Peter informed him, gesturing to the mound of sweets as he dumped the handful back atop the rest.

"Sorry?"

"The trolley lady. I went to fetch her, you see. She helped me drag you in here, cleaned all the puke off the floor out there and then left you a load of free sweets!" Peter grinned broadly, taking another generous bite from his chocolate bar, exclaiming: "Pretty cool huh?!"

Remus eyed the sweets, feeling rather dazed. Quite frankly he could think of nothing more awful than stuffing himself with sugar having just vomited all over the floor and passed out.

But Peter Pettigrew didn't seem to be the sort of boy who could comprehend a time when it would not be cool to be given free sweets. No indeed, Peter Pettigrew was too busy stuffing himself senseless to understand such a notion at all.

Remus liked sweets. He liked sweets a lot, especially chocolate which he would eat every day if given half the chance. But even he had his limits!

Unlike Peter, it seemed, and so Remus consented to mumbling:  
"Yes...it's pretty cool."

Peter grinned widely, only for the expression to fade a little, his cheeks growing pink as he asked:

"You don't...don't mind, do you? Sharing them, I mean?"

"Oh...no, not at all..."

"Great! That's what friends do anyway, right?"

At the mention of having potentially made a friend without any conceivable effort, Remus felt his spirits rise a little, even though the whole notion seemed rather stupid, basing a friendship on...well..._free chocolate_...

For Merlin's sake, the boy didn't even know Remus' name yet!

But again, Remus didn't want to try and point this out, so he simply agreed:

"Right."

Peter positively beamed at him, fidgeting to get more comfortable in his seat as he admitted:

"I'm glad I've got a friend already...you know...because it's sort of scary isn't it? Not knowing anyone I mean! I'm dead nervous about being sorted, aren't you? All those people watching...!"

"I haven't really thought about it." Remus admitted, frowning a little at this realisation. It was all most people talked about when they were accepted to Hogwarts: which house would they be sorted into? But Remus hadn't really thought that far ahead. He'd only gotten as far as being excited that he had the opportunity to board the Hogwarts Express in the first place.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Peter asked him, and recalling his uncontrollable panic earlier Remus found himself laughing in embarrassment as he suggested:

"Not Gryffindor, that's for sure!"

Peter sniggered, and Remus rather wished that he hadn't admitted to being such a coward out loud, so he mused:

"Maybe I'll be a Ravenclaw. Like both of my parents."

"You must be awfully clever, then." Peter told him, sounding rather awed. "I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw, that's what my dad said! I think...I think I'd like to be in Hufflepuff. Is that silly? Everybody thinks that's silly..."

"I don't think there's anything silly about Hufflepuff." Remus said as he turned to gaze out of the window. "It's important, isn't it? All that hard work and...and loyalty. Especially loyalty."

"Exactly! I'd like that, you know? I'd like people to think I'm loyal."

"Yes, so would I."

"You're not a Slytherin, then?" Peter asked with a snigger. "You don't think you're terribly cunning?"

Remus supposed that if he was going to survive his time at Hogwarts with his secrets still in tact he might have to quickly learn to be very cunning indeed...

"I don't really fancy sleeping in the dungeons." he confessed as Peter reached to pick up another bar of chocolate. Watching the podgy boy rip open the shiny foil wrapper, Remus wondered: "How long was I...you know...? How long has it been since we left London?"

Peter's eyes widened excitedly as he slipped from his seat onto his feet.

"We should get changed into our robes!" he announced, abandoning the chocolate bar back upon the mound of sweets.

"I've been out of it for...for hours?!" Remus concluded, sounding horrified, but Peter merely sniggered.

"No, you we're out of it for about five minutes!"

Remus slumped back against his seat again in relief.

Or was it relief? He was going to be stuck on this train for hours, that was plenty of time to panic all over again.

Merlin, he wanted to go home...

"I'm just excited, that's all!" Peter said as he half-skipped over to his trunk, throwing back the lid so that he could fetch his school uniform. "Just think of that welcome feast! There's going to be so much food!"

Remus was certain he wouldn't eat a bite of it.

Perhaps he could owl his mother once he arrived at the castle. Tell her they had made an awful mistake. Tell her to send for him to come home immediately...

"Where's your trunk?" Peter asked, oblivious to Remus' lack of enthusiasm as he pulled a grey school jumper from his own trunk with unfathomable gusto.

"Oh..." Remus glanced searchingly around the carriage as if the trunk in question might simply materialise from thin air. When he didn't, he was forced to recall: "It's in a different compartment..."

"Shall we go and fetch it, then?" Peter suggested, and Remus very nearly sighed at the thought of getting up and moving around when his head was aching so dreadfully.

But he supposed his head wouldn't feel better any time soon, and now was as good a time as any to go and find his belongings. Who knew, maybe he'd feel slightly less foolish if he put on his school uniform. Maybe he might feel as if he would fit in...

As he rose slowly to his feet Peter half-bounded over towards the compartment door, tossing his jumper down upon his vacated seat and grabbing a handful of sweets for good measure. The podgy boy reached to slide the door open, glanced almost nervously out into the corridor, before suggesting:

"After you!"

Remus slipped out into the corridor and, after glancing one way and then the other to gather his bearings, set off, glancing through the little windows into each compartment as he went, Peter wandering along after him, popping an Every Flavour Bean into his mouth.

The compartment in which Remus and a helpful fourth year Hufflepuff had deposited Remus' hefty school trunk had, the werewolf saw, since then been occupied by a rowdy group of students who were talking and laughing so loudly that they didn't seem to notice Remus wandering in to retrieve the trunk, and as he reached to grasp hod of the handle on one end of the trunk, giving it a firm yank away from the wall with little success, Remus frowned a little at the noise, only for it to suddenly fizzle out and a sniggering boy's voice inquired:

"Got enough sweets there, Fatty?"

Remus turned to see Peter stood in the compartment doorway, bar of chocolate midway to his mouth as he froze, his cheeks growing pink in embarrassment.

The speaker, Remus saw, was a handsome boy with a head of shaggy black hair sat with his feet up across one seat, and opposite him a boy with messy dark hair and glasses had promptly dissolved into laughter, much to Peter's horror...

Remus waited for Peter to say something, but he simply opened and closed his mouth a few times, which only seemed to make the boy with glasses laugh harder than ever.

Abandoning his failed attempts to shift the trunk, Remus straightened up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he observed:

"Well he's got more than you do, that's for certain." As the first boy turned to look round at him, the werewolf found himself suggesting: "Perhaps you're jealous?"

The boy with glasses instantly stopped laughing and looked round too, and Peter's eyes widened.

The compartment went silent.  
Remus rather felt like sighing as the first boy slid his feet down from the seat and rose to his feet. Remus had rather planned on keeping himself to himself. As he watched the boy take a few steps towards him, causing Peter to shrink back a little in the doorway, the boy supposed that notion had died a disappointingly swift death...

The black haired, broad shouldered boy came to a stop in front of him, took a moment to look him up and down, before offering him a raised eyebrow.

"I reckon you're jealous yourself!" he said as the boy with glasses eyed Remus curiously. "When's the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? Look at you!" He reached forward to jab a finger at the skinny boy's ribs and the werewolf attempted to suppress a wince.

Over in the doorway, Peter let out an odd little squeak.

Remus stared at the boy for a long moment in consideration before slowly making a show of looking down at himself, turning his hands over scrutinisingly before holding the up and concluding:

"No, you're right. I probably am jealous. Look at me! There doesn't appear to be a single square of chocolate in my hands at all..."

At his sarcasm, the boy in glasses promptly dissolved into laughter again and, after a rather surprised pause, the black boy followed suit, his barking laugh making Peter jump.

"What's your name?" asked the second boy, reaching to push his glasses further up his nose, and Remus found himself letting out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding.

"Remus...Remus Lupin." he supplied, and he promptly jumped a little when the boy in front of him reached to grasp him by the hand, shaking it so hard that he feared he might dislocate his wrist.

"I'm Sirius. Sirius Black. And this is James."

"James Potter." James clarified, grinning widely, before turning back to the door to inquire: "And who are you?"

Peter looked somewhat stunned to be asked. When he didn't say anything for a long moment, Sirius let out a huff, turning round to tell the boy:

"I was only kidding, Fatty! What's your name, then? 'Else we'll have to stick with Fatty and Remus doesn't seem to approve..."

Peter let out a rather nervous little laugh.

"Peter Pettigrew." he half-whispered, and over by the window James was forced to ask:

"What?"

"He's Peter Pettigrew." Remus explained, turning his attention back to his trunk, only for Sirius to wonder:

"Yeah? Friends, are you?"

"Yes, we are!" Peter agreed, suddenly finding his voice, and Remus found himself feeling the sudden urge to laugh. "We're very good friends! In fact...in fact these aren't my sweets, they're Remus', he...he's sharing with me!"

"How long have you known him?" Sirius asked Remus in an undertone as if he were slightly shocked, and as Remus stooped to grab his trunk, he estimated:

"About...fifteen minutes...or less..."

Sirius grinned.

"Want a hand with that?" he asked as Remus strained to pull the trunk towards the door. "James, come and give us a hand!"

As they set about heaving the trunk out into the corridor with James' help, Peter watching on, James wondered:

"What've you got in here, it weighs a ton!"

"Is it bricks?" Sirius wondered with a wince as he caught his toe in the doorway.

"No...books."

"Merlin," Sirius grunted. "That's even worse..."

"Hold the door, Peter." James said, wincing as the door began to slide back on them, and as he hurried to grab it, Peter suggested:

"We've got more sweets in our compartment, you know. If you want some."

"More?" James laughed. "Merlin!"

"Did you buy the entire trolley, Remus?" Sirius wondered, and Remus was about to laugh when Peter piped up:

"No, Remus fainted in the corridor! So the Trolley Witch gave him a load of free sweets! You know, 'cos he wasn't well! How cool is that?!"

Remus felt his face growing hot in humiliation as they finally stumbled out into the corridor. The werewolf ducked his head, not wanting to even look at the other boys' faces to see the sniggers that would probably materialise in an instant.

"Merlin..." Sirius began, only for James to ask:

"Which way, Remus?"

Remus was hoping the answer might be downwards, that a hole might open up beneath him and swallow him up...

"It's...it's alright," he said, forcing himself to look up and smile. "I um...I've got it from here...so...thanks for helping!"

"Don't be stupid!" James said. "Which way?"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed with a grin. "I'm not going to miss free sweets..."

Remus managed a vague chuckle as Peter announced:

"This way! Down the end here!"

As they struggled on down the corridor, Sirius beginning to babble to James about some apparently pathetic Gryffindor-hating individual who needed to wash his hair, Remus found himself longing to curl up in a corner of his compartment with a book to disappear behind...

...and yet when they finally dragged the trunk over the threshold into the compartment and Sirius and James made a beeline for the mound of sweets upon the chair, Remus found himself feeling far more inclined to abandon his books and join in with the sudden squabbling over Ever Flavour Beans and chocolate frog cards instead.

Indeed, for a while the young werewolf felt as if going to Hogwarts was a perfectly good idea, as if he were an entirely normal young wizard.

And yet all too soon Remus Lupin was about to discover that he was not normal at all.

Even for a werewolf...


	4. Something Extraordinary

_Note: This chapter is dedicated to Wizard of Night's brother – Happy Birthday...plus a month or so! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**4: Something Extraordinary**

Remus Lupin spent his first weeks at Hogwarts School feeling like a fraud.

He had felt that way from the moment the Sorting Hat had, without so much as a hesitation upon being deposited upon his head, bellowed to the room at large: Gryffindor!

The Great Hall had rung with instant applause and, already at the Gryffindor table, Sirius had jumped to his feet and gave a triumphant cheer.

But as the hat was plucked from his head by Professor McGonnogal, Remus had simply sat frozen upon the stool, gazing blankly at the crowd before him.

Gryffindor? Him?

It had taken him almost a full minute to notice Professor McGonnogal tapping him sharply on the shoulder, and he'd turned to stare at her with wide eyes before finally consenting to stumbling up onto his feet and over towards the Gryffindor table.

Peter had been surprised to be sorted into Gryffindor too. He hadn't shut up about it that entire evening long and by the time they had retreated to their dormitory along with James and Sirius it had grown distinctly irritating. There had been an effort to steer conversation onto something else, namely what lessons they had on their first full day, but Remus had said very little. He had yet to quite get over his shock.

"D'you suppose the Sorting Hat has ever...you know...got it wrong?" he'd asked James in an undertone the following morning at breakfast as they had tucked into their scrambled eggs on toast. "I mean, do you think it ever just...just put somebody in the wrong house?"

And James had frowned deeply and decided:

"I don't see why it would..." Then his gaze had flickered to Peter and he had admitted: "But there's always a first time for everything, isn't there? Ha!"

James had, Remus was sure, been joking.

But that didn't mean he was wrong.

Because despite his new friends, Remus was not feeling in the least bit brave or courageous.

In later years his friends would claim that Hogwarts' resident werewolf spent a large proportion of his spare time in the school library because he was, put simply, a bookworm.

Remus' primary purpose in those first few weeks, however, had nothing to do with his love of books at all. That the place had been crammed full of them had simply been a happy coincidence.

No indeed, Remus had first taken refuge in the deepest, darkest most secluded corner of the library that he could find out of sheer desperation for solitude. The hustle and bustle of the school corridors made him somewhat nervous and left him on edge, though he hid his feelings carefully. It was a relief to escape to the library where often he saw nobody for hours except the odd studious individual with their nose buried in a book, or the school librarian prowling the shelves as if she were on some sort of military patrol.

It was rather like being invisible, and it calmed Remus' nerves. It gave him time to sit and think, to reason with himself. To promise to himself that everything was going just fine.

But it was in this quiet and peaceful place that, some week after he had arrived at the school, Remus stumbled across something that would set in motion events that would, though he did not realise it until he was long into adulthood, shape his life, sending him hurtling towards events more dark than a young boy of eleven could possibly dream of...

It had all started a few days previously when Remus had attended his first ever Defence Against the Dark Arts class, a subject that he found instantly exciting and interesting, so much so that he had felt quite disappointed at the end of the lesson when the teacher had dismissed them. Professor Savage had, however, set his new students some homework, a simple tasks no doubt aimed at spurring their interest in Defence Against the Dark Arts to increasing heights, and it was this particular task that Remus found himself contemplating in his corner of the library one afternoon before dinner.

_Find me a spell_, Professor Savage had instructed the sea of eager faces, _any spell you like! Find me a spell to repel, a spell to defend, a spell to fight back with! Find me a spell that you think is interesting and relevant to Defence Against the Dark Arts! And write me a short paragraph explaining what it is, what it does, why it interests you so much!_

Remus had already come across a whole range of spells from his enthusiastic examinations of his Defence textbook, but he had been determined to find something unique, something impressive. Something none of the other students would come across!

And so the young werewolf had taken to wandering up and down the aisles of books, searching for a title that might grab his attention, eventually venturing deeper into the library until he found himself stood before the entrance to the Restricted Section.

"Looking for anything in particular, are you?" a voice from behind him had inquired, and Remus had turned to see the speaker, expecting to see an older student, only to find himself looking at a young red headed girl who he recognised to be the fellow first year Gryffindor who sat in the chair in front of him in Transfiguration class.

"Oh...not really..." the werewolf mumbled as the girl stood, a large book hugged to her chest. "I was just...you know...thinking about Professor Savage's homework."

"Oh, right." the girl said, taking a step forward and patting the book in her arms as she said: "Me too! I'm going to write about the Protego charm. It's a shield, you see."

"It sounds very useful." Remus agreed with a smile, and with that the girl turned to eye the bookshelves before them, sucking in a deep breath.

"These all look very advanced." she commented brightly, leaning to squint at the faded spines. "You should pick something out of one of these, Professor Savage would be dead impressed..."

"Do you think so?"

"I'm sure he would...look at this one!" she reached to pull a hefty tome out from the shelf, and was about to turn to show it to Remus when a voice called:

"Lily?! Where are you?"

"Shh, Sev!" Lily called back in a whisper, and a Slytherin boy with dark hair and a hooked nose that Remus recognised as as boy James and Sirius had quarrelled with that very morning stepped out from amongst the bookshelves. "It's a library, for goodness sake..."

"Are you coming to get dinner?" the Slytherin asked, rather as if Remus were not there. "We could walk down to the Great Hall together if you like."

"Right..." Lily said, hastily turning to thrust the book into Remus' arms. And with that she flashed him a bright smile and told him: "Definitely look at that one...um..."

"Remus."

"Remus! Obviously, sorry! Yes, Remus, definitely look at that one...look at the cover, there's bound to be something exciting in it!"

Remus found himself smiling back, and he rather wanted to ask her if she loved books too or perhaps what her favourite book was because she seemed like the sort of girl he'd quite like to be friends with, but before he could say anything else she had offered him one last smile before turning on her heel to hurry off after the Slytherin boy, calling over her shoulder:

"See you at dinner then, Remus!"

"Bye..."

"Lily." she supplied, just in case he had forgotten, and Remus found himself offering her a small wave as he amended:

"Bye, _Lily_!"

Not quite feeling hungry enough to abandon the library in favour of the dinner table, Remus retreated to the nearest table to drop down onto a chair. Setting Lily's book of choice down in front of him he set about examining the front cover. Bound in leather stained a bright mottle blue, an elaborate embossed picture had been stamped in faded yet gleaming silver upon the cover, a medieval wizard dressed in shining plate armour, a shield held upon one arm and wand raised aloft. Amid a burst of sparks above the figure was stamped an title in thick, bold letters: _Magicks of The Light – Defence From the Realms of Darkness_.

Flicking through the old, dusty pages Remus found the entire book to be printed in vivid and colourful inks, with careful, medieval-style illustrations adorning every page. Closing the book again, the young werewolf reached to run a thumb down the book's edge, selecting a page at random. And he found himself holding his breath a little as he reached to open the book at his chosen page.

Across the two pages Remus found himself examining an elaborate scene; an enormous dragon in shining silver, breathing a burst of shining flames across the parchment, leaving a series of dark and shadowy figures to scatter across the opposite page. Behind the dragon, wand raised triumphantly, was the same knight-like figure who had adorned the front cover. Remus' gaze dropped keenly to examine the text beneath the picture, squinting at the somewhat swirly and archaic font, and with that he found the title and read: _The Patronus Charme_.

Bending closer, his nose almost brushing the parchment, Remus set about reading the somewhat vague description of the spell. The language was old and the young boy found it difficult to decipher, full of strange spellings and words he did not recognise at all. There seemed to be an awful lot of mention of darkness and light, good and evil, and the banishment of the darkness via hope and cheer. Reaching into the pocket of his robes to extract his wand, Remus skipped the baffling explanation to look at the wand movement diagram printed at the bottom of the page, and found that despite the complicated explanations the movement itself looked extremely simple. Giving his wand an experimental swish, the boy mouthed the incantation to himself a few times, before trying a whisper, ready to imagine a silvery dragon erupting from the tip of his wand...

"Ex-pect-o pa-tro-num!"

To the boy's excitement and surprise a tiny puff of silvery smoke was emitted from the tip of his wand.

Remus simply stared as he watched the smoke disperse into the air, heart giving a leap in his chest.

It hadn't been a mighty dragon, of course, but it had been something! And he hadn't expected that, he hadn't expected anything at all. He could barely make any sense of the book in front of him besides the little wand diagram at the bottom, and it seemed like complex magic to say the least. You didn't just point your wand and say a few funny words, magic wasn't that simple. If it was, what would be the use of Hogwarts at all?

He'd been struggling to turn matches in needles in Transfiguration class earlier that day, for goodness sake! Which made sudden success of sorts a somewhat heady and exciting experience.

Snatching up the book, taking brief note of the page number, Remus hurried towards the exit of the library, pausing at the librarian's desk on his way.

The librarian had looked from the young first year to the book and back again several times, before simply raising an eyebrow in surprise and stamping the book out.

Remus had headed for the first relatively open space he could find, the courtyard just off the Transfiguration corridor. The cobbled area was deserted as the castle's inhabitance had mostly headed to the Great Hall for dinner, and Remus abandoned his school bag down upon one of the stone benches at the courtyard's edge, before hastily finding the page in the book again. He took a moment to re-examine the diagram, reaching once more for his wand, and with that he turned to raise it in the air, sucking in a deep, excited breath...

Minerva McGonnogal was just wiping the last of the chalk from her blackboard, ready to head down to the Great Hall for dinner when it happened. A bright flash of silver light came streaming through the window to her right, and no sooner had she spun around to look at it, it had gone.

The Head of Gryffindor House reached to adjust the glasses on her nose, frowning for a moment, before striding over to the window, peering searchingly out into the courtyard beyond.

It was deserted, she saw, except for a lone figure stood just off to one side, a Gryffindor boy peering down at an open book upon a bench, his wand in his hand. And when he turned around a moment later she recognised him as none other than Remus Lupin, his expression one of distinct excitement.

What was the boy doing, McGonnogal wondered, wandering about with books and practicing goodness knew what when it was well into dinnertime? She was just considering sending him on his way, should the time have escaped him, on her own way to dinner when the boy gave his wand a wave and, to the professor's astonishment, a burst of silver light came streaking out of its tip, briefly lighting up the courtyard before it was again gone in a flash.

She very nearly hit her head against the glass jumping at the sight, and no sooner had she recovered a little from her shock, the witch turned on her heel and made a beeline for the classroom door, sweeping out into the corridor beyond and out into the courtyard.

"Mr Lupin!" she called, making the boy in question very nearly jump out of his skin as he spun around to face her, expression distinctly nervous as if she thought he was up to no good. She found for a good moment as she strode towards him that she didn't quite know what she meant to say to him, before she found herself demanding to know: "What are you doing out here? There'll be no dinner left, you know!"

"Oh..." the boy mumbled, hastily shoving the wand back into the pocket of his school robes, only for the witch to tell him:

"Don't put it away!"

Wand held somewhat limply in his hand, the young werewolf told her:

"I was just...for homework, Professor..."

"A first year practicing the...the Patronus Charm for...for homework?!" the witch cried, sounding disbelieving as she turned to look down at the open book upon the bench accusingly, as if expecting for it to tell a different story, only the evidence to merely confirm the bizarre suspicion. Tapping a finger against the page she turned to inform the child: "This is exceptionally complex magic, Mr. Lupin! We don't teach it to our NEWT level students, let alone our first years!"

Remus' gaze dropped to his shoes as if she were scolding him, only for her tone to grow curious rather than suspicious.

"Well, then!" she said, causing him to glance up at her. "Why don't you...why don't you show me how...how it's coming along? This...this homework of yours..."

Remus merely shifted his feet uncomfortably, only for her to prompt: "Go on! Let's see!"

She watched the boy suck in a deep, calming breath, before he straightened up, cleared his throat a little, and raised his wand. Giving it a neat little wave he mumbled the spell in a distinctly unenthusiastic manner, and yet the smallest puff of silver shot out of the end of his wand...

McGonnogal simply stared.

"That's...not possible! she breathed, utterly astonished, and the boy instantly shoved the wand back into his pocket and hung his head, apparently quite ashamed. "When...when did you...how long have you been practicing that?!"

"I found the book this evening, Professor." the boy told her, as if this might calm her down a little, only for her to exclaim:

"This evening?!"

"Y...yes, Professor..."

McGonnogal found herself feeling oddly light-headed. She reached to snatch up the book from the bench, making the boy jump, before instructing:

"Come with me, Mr. Lupin!"

Remus wanted to ask if he was in quite as much trouble as he thought he was, but quite frankly he couldn't seem to find his voice. So he hurriedly went to pick up his school bag and shuffled hastily along behind the formidable witch, who kept casting furtive glances over her shoulder at him. Each time she did so, Remus felt his stomach twist into ever tighter knots. They made their way through the school corridors in agonising silence until they reached the dead end of a corridor where an enormous statue of a gargoyle stood, its stone stare gazing blankly at the pair at their approach. Remus found himself coming to a halt behind McGonnogal as she paused to eye the statue in consideration for a long moment, before announcing:

"Peppermint toad!"

And with that the gargoyle came to life, giving its limbs a brief stretch before stepping aside, revealing a spiral staircase that began to magically snake its way upwards.

"Come along, then." McGonnogal instructed briskly when Remus failed to move to step onto the staircase after her, and the boy swallowed the apprehensive lump in his throat and shuffled after her.

Atop the staircase they reached a large wooden door upon which the professor tapped sharply, and Remus found himself wincing a little to hear the familiar voice of the headmaster call:

"Do come in!"

"Wait here." McGonnogal instructed, casting one last curious look over her shoulder at him, and with that she disappeared into the room beyond, closing the door firmly behind her.

Remus stood, staring at the grain in the wood for a number of agonising minutes, feeling sick to the stomach, his mind racing.

He was going to be expelled.  
He was.

He just knew he was.

Because it was foolish, wasn't it? To try magic much too advanced. To try spells he didn't understand. That must have been why Professor McGonnogal had been so cross. He couldn't imagine any other reasons. And it didn't do to have a boy like him in a school like this. You couldn't be careless when you were a boy like him. It wasn't acceptable! Professor Dumbledore had thought him a sensible sort of boy, the sort of boy who didn't do foolish things and could keep his head down...

Remus didn't want to be expelled from Hogwarts.

Despite his nerves and despite having clearly been sorted into the wrong house, he adored being at school. He liked learning. He liked the library and being surrounded by books. And he liked having friends, too! Of course he hadn't known James, Sirius and Peter for all that long, but already the four of them seemed bound together by a strong friendship. He didn't want to be sent home in disgrace to his parents. He couldn't imagine how disappointed in him his mother and father would be...

And his mother had cried so dreadfully to think that he would never go to school. He didn't want that again, he didn't want to upset her. She grew quite depressed about his chances in life as it is without him managing to get himself expelled from school. Being accepted at Hogwarts was the first good thing to happen to him since...well...anything, really...

All of a sudden the door he was staring at swung open to reveal the Headmaster's office beyond and Remus found Professor Dumbledore sat behind his desk, Professor McGonnogal stood off to one side, midway through informing the Headmaster:

"...not so much as a pause for thought! Waves his wand and there it is – I've never seen anything like it, Albus! In all my years..."

"Come in, Remus." Dumbledore called calmly, ending the witch's monologue abruptly as she turned to look round. As he took a few hesitant steps into the room, taking very little note of his surroundings for he felt so dreadfully nervous, Remus felt as if the two professors' eyes upon him might very well freeze him to the spot.

"Why don't you come and sit down?" Dumbledore suggested cheerfully reaching to shuffle a few papers upon his desk, leaving them to float up into the air and store themselves on a bookcase behind him. "Professor McGonnogal and I were just discussing something quite extraordinary!"

Remus felt somewhat thrown by the Headmaster's tone, his legs seemed a little lighter as he went to drop down into the chair opposite the wizard. For a very long moment there was silence as Dumbledore peered at him in a distinctly thoughtful manner, and Remus' nerves were just beginning to creep back into his stomach when the Headmaster leant forward a little in his chair, gazing a the boy with piercing blue eyes from other the top of his half-moon spectacles.

And then Albus Dumbledore asked the boy:

"Do you know what a _Dementor_ is, young man?"


End file.
